A Dance of Death
by Serenity Sasamoto
Summary: "I don't want them to see this side of Winter. I don't want anyone to see this side of me..." As the Spirit of Winter, Jack Frost has more duties than most people know, responsibilities that he dares not tell of to anyone. Third chapter is now up.
1. A Dance of Death

This is my first story in a while, I think what little skill I had before has left me ;-; I might've accidentally butchered the characters as well Dx But I really hope you guys enjoy this little piece. I might write more, but it depends. Please read and review and let me know of any mistakes :D

**Fan**Fiction should explain itself.

* * *

Jack Frost had never liked the thought of New Years. At least, as far as his immortal life was concerned, as far as his life as the Spirit of Winter was concerned. The North Wind curled around the youthful boy in a protective embrace, reassuring him that everything would be fine. Even when he could sense Mother Nature approaching the lake he laid upon. Only a minutes wait and the black haired woman appeared in a swirl of leaves, pale green dress fluttering wildly before calming around her. She closed the distance between them and lowered down onto her knees to sit upon her ankles. North Wind settled between them, trying to guard the frost child it so eagerly played with everyday. Silence reigned between the spirits until Jack sat up and turned towards Mother Nature, not meeting her eyes. Instead his cerulean irises settled on the simple satchel of white cloth she held in her lap,

"Jackson, congratulations on your guardianship. The Man in the Moon must be proud of you." the woman gave a gentle smile,

"Thanks..." Jack turned his eyes upward to meet hers, "I'll leave for the South Pole soon."

"You're not performing the ritual at North's?"

"Nah, Rapunzel's always the main act. Don't want to steal the spotlight from her." he let out a hollow chuckle,

"She requested me to allow you to perform with her. Even Eugene is hoping you'll accept." Jack merely looked back down at the bag, "The other guardians might even enjoy it." she tilted her head to look into Jack's eyes, but the boy shook his head,

"No." Jack said firmly, opening his mouth to say more but a sudden vibration from the ground stopped him. It grew more intense until the ground caved into a hole on the shore of the lake. A pair of long ears poked out before Bunny hopped up onto solid ground,

"Dang it Frostbite! Why you gotta make it so bloody cold!" the Pooka turned, his forest green eyes spotting the pair sitting on the frozen lake staring at him. Bunny immediately recognized Mother Nature, "What'd ya do now?!"

"What makes you think I did anything, ya stupid kangaroo?!" Jack waved his staff around but remained seated,

"Bunnymund, Jackson." the female's piercing voice cut the two off and she turned towards the winter spirit, "_Do whatever you feel most comfortable with, but there is no shame in these rituals Jackson. They keep the world balanced._" Mother Nature continued in Gaelic, lifting the bag towards the white haired boy who, with some hesitance, accepted it,

"_I don't want them to see this side of Winter. I don't want anyone to see this side of me..._" Jack's Gaelic wasn't as smooth as Mother Nature's but still served the purpose of keeping the conversation private,

"_They care about you, as does the Man in the Moon._" she stood and waited for Jack to join her, "_It is time to heal, Jackson._" a hand reached forward but stopped when Jack flinched away. Once her hand was by her side, a whirlwind of leaves descended and Mother Nature disappeared from sight. Jack shrugged the bag over his head to hang on his shoulder like a messenger bag. The winter spirit twirled his staff and walked towards an uncertain Bunny with one big foot testing the ice. A confident smirk in place and a mischievous glint in his eyes to mask the tense conversation of before,

"So, Cotton Tail, what brings you to my humble abode?" Jack tapped his staff against the frozen lake. Frost began to creep silently towards Bunny's foot and the large rabbit stumbled back,

"North sent me," Bunny glared at the boy, "He wants me ta drag ya back to the pole since ya didn' show for the Christmas party, mate." Bunny's eyes turned towards the bag, "What'd Mother want?"

"He sent you just to lecture me for missing a little get together." Jack turned and began to glide across the ice absently, "That seems a bit much, even for North." he chuckled,

"Nah, mate. He wants me ta tie ya down so you don' skip out on the New Year's Bash. Tooth spent months plan'n and prep'n. And ya never answered my question, Frostbite." Bunny cursed slightly as he slipped on the ice and nearly did a split, not noticing how Jack paused in his track around the lake,

"New Year's Bash...?" Jack pointedly ignored Bunny's last question, "Sorry, no invite." He continued to skate farther from dry land and Bunny,

"Yer a guardian now, kid! Shouldn' it be obvious or are ya that much of a drongo?" Bunny finally managed to set both feet on the slick ice without toppling over, "Now get yer skinny arse over here!"

"Haha, sorry Kangaroo! Got plans already! I'm a popular guy, places to be, people to see." Jack chuckled,

"Oh don't give me tha' bull-" before Bunny could finish, Jack was swept into the sky by the North Wind, and the Pooka's feet slipped out from under him with a yelp. The boy let out a joyous laugh as Bunny hit the ice hard on his back,

"Don't worry Kangaroo, I'll be back soon. Try not to miss me!"

"FROSTBITE!" Bunny's yell echoed behind Jack as the wind tossed him higher into the sky, lifting him above the clouds and towards the upper atmosphere. Suddenly, Jack's task seemed just a bit heavier.

* * *

Jack spent the rest of the day in New Zealand, sitting under a waterfall and by sundown, was on his way towards Antarctica. The North Wind remained silent but continued to embrace the snowy haired boy, soothing him in ways only it could. Jack closed his eyes and simply let the wind pull him along through the starlit night. His mind listed what had to be done for the seemingly hundredth time that day: Meet with Mother Nature to inquire about any changes, if necessary. Receive the ceremonial robes from Mother Nature. Cleanse his body. Arrive at the ritual location of his choice. Cleanse the area. Meditate. Perform. Rest. This ceremony, performed only at the end of each year, was one of his lesser known duties as the Spirit of Winter, and he intended it to remain a secret, even to those who he hoped he would be able to call his friends in the near future. The North Wind whispered in his ear and Jack begrudgingly turned to face the icy mountains beneath him. A clearing of blue tinted ice came into view. Nestled within the protective barriers of miles of pure ice and snow. The plain was located directly in the center of Antarctica. It had taken Jack years to sculpt the land into his private studio, a stage to perform and walls to keep from prying eyes or other disturbances. He landed on the edge of his round stage, a perfect mile length in diameter. The North Wind circled around waiting for its ward to commence the ritual that was needed. Jack observed the circle, it was untouched by animals, humans, and spirits alike. The boy sighed, propping his staff against the glacier like wall and lifted his blue hoodie over his head, letting it drop to the snow as he began to strip the rest of his clothing. The cold barely sent a chill through his bare body, as only the Spirit of Winter himself could stand to be in such temperatures. From the satchel he produced a pair black leggings. Elegant silver stitching spiraled its way up the leggings, reminiscent of his own frost designs. They were low on his hips and left his feet bare, as he preferred. Next came a black robe-like tunic. A wide collar showed his ghostly pale collar bones and neck but a hood ending in a point at mid back hid most of his white hair save for a single, stubborn lock that stuck up. The full length sleeves clung to his upper arms then began to gently drape into cloth going past his knees. The body of the tunic stopped at mid thigh with a comfortable fitted style. Silver stitching made itself known again by winding around the edges of the sleeves and hood, going down the side of the tunic. Finally, full length black gloves that started with a silver ring on the middle finger of each hand. Jack stuffed his clothes into the satchel and set it aside to gently pick up his shepards hook, beginning to walk around the edge of the snow covered plain, his bare feet not making a sound nor leaving a print. His hand traced the wall, tracing the ancient runic carvings he had done so long ago and infusing some of his own magic to purify the area of any unwanted residue. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, the spirit boy started towards the middle of the circle where he perched upon his staff cross legged and closed his eyes. If he was to do the ritual properly then he had to clear his mind. The North Wind settled around him contently, the East Wind lazily spiraled in the sky above, the South Wind winding through the titanic mountains of ice, and the West Wind just arriving. An hour to midnight of New Years's Eve, was the official beginning of the ceremony. Jack couldn't help but wonder if his family, the one he barely remembered, had come through here. Had they recognized him in the midst of the ritual? Did they even notice him? They had passed so long ago, he couldn't remember if any particular souls had intentionally sought him out during his performance. It troubled him to no end, the thought of ferrying his own family to the afterlife. And with the Man in the Moon above him, shining bright, as his only audience and the four great winds as his assistants Jack Frost began his dance of death; the Ritual of Night.

Staff laid horizontally at his feet, facing north, Jack raised his left arm and turned his head to look westward,

"Hail, Guardian of the Watch Tower of the West. Elemental of Water. I call upon you to gather here with me, in perfect love and perfect trust." The West Wind quickly descended and wrapped around Jack in greeting.

The Spirit of Winter held both arms straight up with his gaze towards the sky, "Hail, Guardian of the Watch Tower of the South. Elemental of Fire. I call upon you to gather here with me, in perfect love and perfect trust." The South Wind also dove down to greet the boy and began to circle him with the West Wind.

Jack brought his gaze to the East with only his right arm raised, "Hail, Guardian of the Watch Tower of the East. Elemental of Air. I call upon you to gather here with me, in perfect love and perfect trust." The East Wind rushed forth and joined its brothers surrounding the boy.

Eyes to the North and both arms raised in front of him, "Hail, Guardian of the Watch Tower of the North. Elemental of Earth. I call upon you to gather here with me, in perfect love and perfect trust." Finally the North Wind joined and curled itself tightest around Jack, who couldn't help but to close his eyes for a moment and smile softly as the winds caressed him like a long lost friend. It was the East Wind who lifted his staff up so Jack could grab it and in one swift move he took one step forward and spun on his heel. The four winds flew upwards and out to form a barrier around the plain. Jack continued to move his limbs in graceful arcs. His feet glided across the ice, staff twirling in his hands, long legs spinning his lithe body and bounding across the surface. Spectral lights began to appear on the horizon, growing brighter as they sped towards the Spirit of Winter, his calling being heard around the world. The winds let the souls of the deceased pass through without harm and soon the night sky was alight with a ghostly pallet of colors. Jack danced, his eyes closed, concentrating on the movements he had performed for hundreds of years. A song of mourning and sorrow, of laughter and peace began. Jack's body began to move faster in response. His feet moving and stopping at precise angles, knees bending in accordance, hips swaying, arms stretching and curling with trained flexibility. Apparitions would flicker into being for a spare moment; musicians of various instruments playing in tune, voices of all ages joined in a chorus of the dead, harmonizing and swaying to a song only they knew. The winds began to circle faster into a cyclone, welcoming souls into their embraces but letting none escape. Jack leapt and spun, glided and swayed to the dead's song, summoning more onto his stage, each one adding their own part to the melody that grew louder. The pillar of lights ascended far into the sky and child's laughter was heard while their apparitions appeared on the surface of the ice, dancing with the one who summoned them for one last game. Jack balanced on one leg with his other bent close to his thigh. His hands spinning the staff straight above him when the wood began to glow an eerie pale blue. The inside of the hook began to ice over in thick layers, shooting outward into a frosted curved blade, a scythe befitting the Winter King. Another crescendo of music and Jack began his lethal dance anew, black cloth flowing with his movements. The souls stretched themselves into threads, the winds guiding them downwards towards the youth. The scythe of ice cut through the threads and they immediately faded away, their ties to the earth being severed, allowing them to move on in peace. The millions of threads waltzed with the winds, their burdens and shackles being cut free with every move the white haired boy made. The song began to fade with the threads, its composers thinning away. The winds lessened now that their prisoners were disappearing. The hood and sleeves of his tunic flowed with the Spirit of Winter, his scythe continuing to free the condemned, his feet continuing to move with an ethereal grace so few possessed. One last gliding spin across his stage brought Jack down onto one knee, his scythe held before him with crossed arms. He awoke from his trance, scanning the area for any renegade spirits. Seeing none, he fell to the ground panting heavily and the four winds rushed to his side,

"I'm fine." He smiled sincerely, raising his hand to caress the West Wind, "Rapunzel's ceremony will be starting soon. You guys don't want to be late." Jack fell back into the snow, blue eyes looking straight towards the sky that was now devoid of the once unearthly colors. Closing his eyes he began to recite the last words:

"I thank thee, Guardian of the Watch Tower of the West, for your protection. Go now in Peace." The West Wind nuzzled against his lax body before shooting towards the North Pole,

"I thank thee, Guardian of the Watch Tower of the South, for your protection. Go now in Peace." South Wind hesitated but followed its brother to the north,

"I thank thee, Guardian of the Watch Tower of the East, for your protection. Go now in Peace." East Wind ruffled his hair then took its leave of the boy,

"I thank thee, Guardian of the Watch Tower of the North, for your protection. Go now in Peace." North Wind remained curled around Jack protectively, "I'll be fine resting here by myself." snowy locks moved slightly when the North Wind merely curled tighter but soon it heard its own summons. Whispering promises to come back soon, the wind left him laying in the soft snow. It was time to rest and let the natural energy flowing in the ice surround him. With a soft sigh, Jack drifted into slumber, letting the frosted scythe crumble to pieces so only the wooden staff remained. The Ritual of Night was complete.

* * *

Notes:

To me, Life and Death just don't seem to fit into a persona, they feel more like concepts that automatically happen with no control what so ever.

I decided to make the seasonal spirits the four animated teens we all love:

Rapunzel & her assistants; Eugene, Maximus, and Pascal (_Tangled_): Spring, she also performs the Ritual of Day. It calls forth new life into the earth and she performs at the North Pole in front of all the attending spirits. Its often seen as the main event and happens at midnight on New Years Day.

Hiccup+Toothless & their assistants; Astrid and Stormfly (_How to Train Your Dragon_): Summer

Merida & her assistants; Elinor and Angus (_Brave_): Autumn

Jack Frost as winter, of course. He was created by MiM though, while the others were created by Mother Nature. That's why he doesn't have/need any assistants.

The entire time I was writing this, I was listening to Moonlight - Electric Cello by The Piano Guys. To really get a feel for the dance Jack does, I suggest listening to it. Also, internet cookies for anyone who knows what the Ritual of Night is based off of. I, myself, am a proud member of it :D


	2. The Dark Side of Winter

First chapter! :D This is the first of three or four chapters before I put up the highly requested sequel to 'Dance of Death'. I was actually quite surprised at how many reviews I got. Seriously, I started crying, you people made me so happy. I just hope this little arc can live up to everyone's expectations. It's an idea I've been tinkering with since shortly after seeing the movie the first time.

Now, without further delay, enjoy!

* * *

Jack wasn't exactly sure when 'it' first happened, but he knew it had been at least half a century as an immortal. The white haired youth had already met the Sandman, Easter Bunny, North, and several other spirits; most of those meetings hadn't ended ideally. With each passing day his depression worsened and his will to live faded away little by little. Jack would sit and stare off into the distance for hours at a time, laying in the snow with no awareness of his surroundings. The four winds combined to try and save Jack Frost from the cruelty of his own element, but were met with failure. Sandy, whom Jack had met shortly after his birth from the lake, noticed immediately. The Guardian of Dreams had seen such a thing happen far too many times already and the thought of it happening to a spirit as young as Jack Frost troubled the Sandman to no end. However, he couldn't keep the Spirit of Winter under twenty four hour surveillance, no matter how much he wanted to. Sandy couldn't begin to fathom how broken Jack had become.

His first fit was with a few water spirits up in New York. Jack had been freezing over some of the rivers and lakes in preparation for the winter; making sure the ice was thick and sturdy enough to hold any of the humans who wished to ice skate. Until a tendril of water shot from the first, and thinnest, layer of ice he had just set down. It wrapped around his bony ankle with a feeling Jack associated with octupi (the winter child had a fear of the sea faring creatures since he first stumbled upon them.) Three distinctly female shapes slithered up from the river; they were of wispy limbs, angled faces, and constantly turning water made their bodies simmer in the sunlight. One floated forward, a school of minnow frantically swimming around in her torso while her lower half was still merged with the river,

"A winter spirit." the soft voice, accompanied with a hiss, made the spirit's liquid body ripple violently, "You are not welcome. Leave!" the other two moved to surround the snow haired child, his ankle still trapped,

"Leave this place!" a lower voice than the one before sounded, leaves swirling inside her head and hair,

"Leave!" the shortest whispered, venom lacing that single word thoroughly. Jack wiggled his foot slightly and the water relinquished it's hold, allowing the wind to pull its charge higher into its protective embrace. The river spirits kept their faces tilted in his direction,

"I understand this is your territory, but my duty calls for me to ice over bodies of water. I won't freeze it all the way, just-" Jack was barely able to dodge the water tendril that shot towards him,

"No!"

"We will not allow it!"

"You are not wanted!" Jack rapidly stiffened,

"Not...wanted?" so many spirits, the ones just like him, the only ones who could see him, had said those same words. He wasn't wanted. He wasn't needed. By anyone. Several water tendrils whipped forth from the river to surround Jack in a spiraling tower. The white haired boy wasn't able to dodge as the slithering water enclosed around him, constricting him,

"Suffer!

"Decease!"

"Die!" Die? Jack didn't want to die, not yet, not at the hands of these wenches. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. Jack Frost panicked. The river spirits were dragging him downwards inch by terrifying inch. North Wind tore round him, frantically pulling at its young friend, but the winter child's staff had been dropped into the raging waters below. The very same ones now licking at pale toes with a ravenous hunger,

"No! Let me go! Please!" Jack cried and struggled with no success. What did he do wrong? Why were they doing this? Sapphire eyes, wide with terror, stared pleadingly at the three spirits now lingering above him. They held no pity nor remorse, only a sense of righteous anger. In the fog of Jack's mind, a hollow chuckle resounded,

_'It's okay, just let go. Let go, Jackie'_ the feeling of hands clamped over his eyes and he was pulled backwards into the devouring water; falling blindly into a forced sleep.

Jack regained consciousness hours later. He could feel the ice he was lying on, the quiet air of death, and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He dreaded opening his eyes; he didn't want to face the carnage he knew was waiting in the waking world. The wind snuggled around the child , pulling gently at his hair and soon Jack was opening his eyes. The sky was no longer clear; gray storm clouds blanketed the late evening sky to cast shadows on the thoroughly frozen river. Three crystalline forms jumped from the river beneath, their faces distorted in with horror and cracks skittering across their surfaces. What little light was left filtered through the sculptures (they were no longer river spirits, he knew, because they no longer had life) with an eerie beauty. There was a thin layer of snow but most of the area was encased in ice. A tomb that was once a small village less than fifty feet from the shore. Jack simply stood with wobbling knees. A fragile silence hing in the air; no birds sung, no insects chirped, no trees creaked, and the wind sat in mourning. The Spirit of Winter screamed. He screamed loud and clear, long and steadfast; his wails echoing and vibrating the air with such a broken cry that unseeing ears could hear the child's pitiful sounds. The four winds heeded his call, rushing to their child's aid in hopes of giving him comfort and security and Jack hoped, more so than the Guardian of Hope himself, that he hadn't been the cause of such a disaster.

It was all for naught.

Because Jack knew, deep in his child-like mind, Jack knew what he had done. He just didn't know how.

The child of winter could hear the wailing dead. Their lives ended prematurely. Their souls still lingered in confusion and fright, unable to find solace in their homes of loved ones; because Jack Frost had taken it all away. He sobbed and raged and shrieked louder still. The winds formed a barrier around their charge, reflecting his torment. Storm clouds of blackened terror rolled in. Sharpened snow flew in a frenzy. Hail rained down from the sky above. Sleet slashed at everything in reach, and a bone chilling cold spread throughout the land. The Great Blizzard of 1888 had begun.

* * *

Since that unforgivable year in New York, Jack would have occasional black outs with varying lengths of time between them. He was always relieved to wake up to an area of peaceful snowfall. It never stopped the crawling beneath his skin and the constant feel of predatory eyes on him left a loathsome feeling that seemed to slick his mind with a thick, consuming oil. This prompted the frost child to take to flying more often since his 'accident'. North Wind was constantly circling him, the protective deity easily picking up on its friend's discomfort. The East was usually nearby, playfully tugging the child out of the North's grasp and tossing him into the clouds. Jack enjoyed the 'Keep Away' game the East would initiate with the North. The South and the West would often join them for brief periods of time when they weren't busy shepherding the rain clouds and such. Being able to laugh and forget his piling troubles to enjoy clear blue skies ringing with the laughter of children. Though, whenever Jack awoke from an unexpected blackout, he noticed how his friends seemed...different. They would blow across his face, checking his eyes, wrapping around him with a delicate touch one would use when handling thin glass. Once they were sure of no injury, East would begin to coo at him, akin to a parent comforting a child. North merely ran soothing fingers through his colorless hair, whispering sweet nothings to Jack, he couldn't help but wonder if it was for his sake or the winds trying to reassure themselves. If another spirit expressed ill intent towards him, the winds were quick to dispatch of said spirit or just as soon whisk their child away to safety. Such security gave Jack a sense of contentedness and ease, but not even the winds, with all their might and wisdom, could not rid Jack of this dark foreboding. The strings wrapping around his limbs. The mist surging through his mind. The voices whispering at the edge of his conscious. Jack Frost knew all too well that 1888 had started an event of unforeseeable circumstances. The first domino had been tipped, but where would the last one fall?

The Great Lakes Storm of 1913 was Jack Frost's second tragedy. With over 250 human deaths and $100 million lost in cargo, it put a great dent in the community and economy for years to come. He honestly had not meant to cause anything, but the Spirit of Thanksgiving had meant every single word. Jack caught sight of the broad shouldered man with hazelnut eyes and hair. He towered over Jack with his impressive height. A fuzzy mustache and beard mixed with the colonial style clothing (much like the clothes Jack saw in that village by his lake when he had first awoken) gave the man of thirty something years a sense of benevolence. Add the warm twinkle in his eyes and you had the ideal family man, one who was continuously grateful for the good health of his loved ones and spent his spare time playing with his children or helping his wife around the house. The elderly spirit seemed nice enough at a distance but when Jack had gone for a closer look and possibly introduce himself, the man had pulled out an axe (Jack still hadn't figured out just where the other had pulled it from, considering the size of the thing) to swing in the frost child's direction,

"Be gone, Winter Spirit! I will not allow such a demon to wreak havoc upon a time of warmth and gratitude!"

"B-but I-!"

"I know exactly who you are, Jack Frost!" his axe glinted in the sunlight, "A monster of ice and snow with no regards towards others. The day of giving thanks is approaching. I cannot allow you to stay!" hazelnut eyes narrowed in disgust, the warm aura vanishing instantly. Jack panicked,

'He-he wouldn't-!' but all too late the winter child learned a harsh lesson.

Everybody will hurt you.

A flash of bright blue eyes reflected in the steel blade before it was buried deep into his right shoulder, tearing through skin, muscle, and bone with frightening ease. Jack could feel his collarbone splitting, shattering; his flesh being ripped apart with a sickening squelching sound. Crimson liquid splattered across porcelain skin, defiled the shining surface of steel, and labeling the tanned man before him with his cruel actions. His right arm went limp with loss of feeling, letting his precious staff fall thousands of feet into the lake below them. Gravity immediately took over, pulling Jack off the once clean blade with another horrific sound. The Thanksgiving Spirit stayed aloft in the air, watching with eyes hardened by anger and hatred as the Spirit of Winter slid between the wailing wind's fingers. Hitting the water from so far up was similar to hitting concrete, though the pain was minimal compared to the raging fire of his right shoulder, a pain that failed to reach the connected arm. Within seconds, Jack Frost had slipped beneath the water's surface. The waves of his swift entrance smoothed over, not a trace left to mark his existence. Only the mourning wind and the innocent blood splattered across a dead man and his axe.

White hair swirled in the currents, lungs filling with water, dragging the small body further down, and dimming blue eyes continued to stare at the light shining through the lake's surface.

_Jack, I'm scared_

_Its okay_

_Don't look down, just look at me_

_We're gonna have a little fun instead_

_No, we're not!_

_Believe In Me_

"_Jackie, you're scared."_ A body with a build similar to his own pressed itself against his back. Lean arms snaked their way over his own lanky arms and around his torso to hug him tightly, _"You're always so scared."_ a voice whispered but from within his mind or from the very water surrounding him he didn't know, _"You shouldn't have to be so afraid."_

He didn't...?

"_No, Jackie. You shouldn't have to bow down to anyone."_ the arms squeezed him tighter, suffocating, _"We will not bow."  
_  
But they...

"_They mock us. Hurt us. Torment us."_ A hand closed over his eyes, _"They cannot break us."  
_  
Us...?

"_I'll protect you."_

Jack had longed to hear those words directed at him, the Winter Child no one wanted. This voice in his head, this twisted anomaly, sent shivers down his spine with a bone chilling cold that made his small frame tremble. Those words dripping with sweetened poison were not words the words he dreamed of in his visions of family and comfort. These words were a death sentence, Jack later realized upon hearing news of finding the Thanksgiving Spirit's (Henry, he learned from eavesdropping on a group of immortal) mutilated body. There were no witnesses, no weapons, no evidence. Nothing but the mourning wind and the innocent blood splattered across a dead man and his axe.

Two of the worst storms in history caused by Jack Frost. Not many people could hold such a claim. The scar on his right shoulder burned with the memory of that day. He watched humanity from a distance, too scared to wander closer, least this thing inside him lash out again. Jack refused to allow such an act to happen again, be it human or spirit, deserving or not. He was afraid of himself. Spiraling deeper into himself, into a darkness he feared and yet revered. Letting his mind go numb cut him off from this reality or maybe this was a nightmare, a nightmare he just had to wake up from, wake up to a warm bed, a mother and father, and a little sister jumping on him to wake him up. The blood sliding across his skin, the wind's soft murmurings, and the sting of bruises and cuts assured him, however, that this was no dream, no nightmare, nothing he could wake from. No, it was something far worse than a nightmare. And Jack found, the farther he withdrew into himself, the longer he fell, he cared less and less. He didn't know which scared him more.

* * *

1940 was a particularly rough year for Jack Frost. The Great Depression, while officially over, still had a grip on parts of the United States. For years, Jack had been holding back winter at the cost of his own health. Sandy had already scolded him thirty two times (Jack had counted) and his three seasonal siblings had begun checking on him more frequently,

"The humans can handle a bit of snow, Jack." Hiccup had said while the white haired boy had been scratching Toothless behind the ears, much to the dragons delight, "Your body can't. Vomiting blood is a very bad sign."

"I can handle myself!" he protested, pale hands still petting the reptile,

"I never said you couldn't." the viking rolled his eyes with an amused smile, "But you're our youngest. We can't help but to worry about you no matter what you do." Hiccup then proceeded to ruffle his hair,

"I'm over two centuries old!" Jack smacked his hand away knowing quite well Hiccup was far older,

"Keep talking, sonny."

... ... ...

Merida had smacked him upside the head with her bow,  
"I won't stop yew from doing what yew want." her accent thick with her Scottish heritage, "That won't stop me from doing what I want." She then guided his hand over Angus's fur,

"I thought we couldn't be in each others presence...?" uncertainty laced the boy's question,

"Hogwash." the red head snorted, "We can't be near other seasons for _long periods_ of time. Ten minutes won't do any damage to the environment." Angus jingled his reins in agreement,

"Bending the rules?" Jack grinned, "You're a bad influence."

"Aye, that I am." Merida chuckled then rummaged through a saddle bag, "Sweet bun?"

... ... ...

"Jack!" Rapunzel had appeared out of no where, her brunette hair swinging wildly around in its braid. He swore the woman had teleportation powers no matter how much Eugene denied the theory and laughed at him. Jack would have fallen over from Rapunzel's infamous tackle hug if not for the wind catching them. The girl giggled when the wind flipped her up her hair in a gentle scolding,

"How do you do that!?" the younger asked, once released from the elder's arms,

"I'm a woman Jack, it comes with the intuition." just as sudden as her appearance, a cast iron frying pan was poking his nose, "Now, I heard from the others about why you haven't been feeling so well these past few years." Rapunzel's voice was casually sweet but the undertone of anger was clearly heard. Maximus standing right behind him didn't help either.

... ... ...

Jack had been on his way to Japan from the east coast of the States when the whisperings began. They were vague mutterings and the immortal teenager would have dismissed them as another figment of his imagination.

If it weren't for the bone chilling cold.

The mourning wind and the innocent blood splattered across a dead man and his axe.

The North Wind pushed Jack faster once it picked up on the boy's sudden panic. He knew he couldn't run. This...thing was connected to him somehow; the wispy hands at the edge of his vision were no shadow play,

"Go faster. Go faster" bright blue orbs watered, the words being whispered as a prayer of safety, though Jack doubted he was the one who needed protecting,

_"I'll protect you."_ that horrid soothing voice caused his eyes to cloud over, his sight fading into nothing. He was over the mid-west of the States, if the wind could at least get him to the ocean...

That hope was swiftly crushed, his lethargy from holding back winter for so long became overwhelming. A low voice softly guiding him to sleep. With dread as his pillow and fear as his blanket; Jack Frost fell in the the Armistice Day Blizzard.

* * *

His fourth fit happened the day before Easter Sunday of 1968. Jack had been somewhere along the northeast coast of North America when E. Aster Bunnymund appeared before the young spirit. The white haired youth had been lazing on a tree limb after a day of bringing snow to the coastal towns,

"Jack Frost!" he blinked, then looked down to see a giant rabbit standing beneath the tree with a fierce scowl upon his face. Jack swung his legs over to one side of the limb,

"Peter Cottontail! A little lost?" he chuckled at the indignant look from the other,

"Its Bunnymund, ya drongo!" the rabbit growled, "What are ya doin' still hanging around here, mate? It's Spring time!" Bunny shook a fist at him. The younger boy merely dropped backwards to hang by his knees,

"So...?" He drawled with a mischievous grin,

"Yer not needed anymore! Get outta here and stop being useless!" Jack's eyes narrowed. What right did Bunny have calling him useless?!

"One day a year and you're calling me useless. That's an all new low, cottontail." he swung back upright to lean against the tree once more. He could practically hear Bunny's rage boiling,

"Millions of children wait all year for Easter. Millions of children wait all year for me. You, on the otha' hand, give kids hypothermia! No one wants ya around!" Jack stiffened at that. He knew the dangers of his element. The damage he could and had created. The deaths he had caused. It didn't make the knowledge any less painful,

"Please," Jack's voice portrayed confidence, not the anger and sorrow he felt, "Everyone loves winter. It signifies the most important holiday of all." If Bunny wanted to play rough, so would he.

"And that would be?" Bunny's hand drifted towards his boomerang,

"Christmas." the youth enunciated before being knocked from a tree with a carefully aimed boomerang. Jack's head popped out of the snow mound he had landed in before the wind suddenly wrapped around his torso and yanked him backwards. Bunny's huge feet implanted the snow, sending a wave of white upwards,

"Bu-Bunny!?" Jack yelled, ducking a boomerang thrown in his direction. He had yet to figure out how the piece of wood was able to circle around like it did and smack him across the head. Next thing the spirit knew, his wooden staff was knocked away from him and the pooka was throwing him into the lake with a furry fist. Luckily, he landed in shallow water, "What the hell, Bunny?!" Jack stumbled out, now weighted down with water. His cloak seemed to weigh three times as much, helping to slow him down enough for Bunny to pin him down. Blue tinted fur cannon balled at the youth, ramming himself head first into Jack's chest, slamming him into the ground,

"Hold still ya bloody show pony!" he yelled, trying his best to hold the squirming boy,

"No!" in an amazing feat of agility Jack managed to squeeze both his legs past a chest of fur and over Bunny's shoulders to grab his neck with bony knees. Once Bunny had let go of his arms, Jack threw the other to the side, using his weight and momentum to keep himself rolling off the giant rabbit to the ground. He skittered away, his head turning wildly, eyes searching madly for his precious staff. Not even a glimpse of the weapon could be found. One of Bunny's feet connected to his back, sending him into a nearby tree to be showered with the snow piled on its bare branches, "Ow..." Jack groaned, his arms shaking and vision wavering, "Why...?" wide, sapphire eyes gazed upward, a hint of fear laced through the snowflake irises.

"Easter is tomorra' an' yer not gonna ruin it again, Frost." his thick Australian accent rang through Jack's ears. "The otha' Guardians an' I are far to busy to be dealin' with selfish little sprites throwin' temper tantrums!"

"Other Guardians...?" Jack muttered, he had been trying to get their attention, just a moment was enough, to ask 'who am I?' and 'what is my purpose?'; they were supposed to help others...weren't they? Jack stood on wobbling legs, "But I-"

"WE DON'T CARE!" Bunny took a threatening step towards the Spirit of Winter, "Every year, ya do nothin' but cause trouble and destruction! Ya kill people an' destroy homes, just like that blizzard twenty eight years ago! I ain't lettin' ya do the same thing to my holiday!" Jack's mind

"I-It was an accident!" the wind shifted slightly to Jack's left and with a glance, the boy saw the end of his staff sticking out from a bush, "I lost control and-"

"I don't want yer excuses." Bunny started towards Jack with a fierce glare and paws out stretched to catch him,

"NO!" Jack screamed and ran to the side towards his shepherd's crook. He was only a few feet away when Bunny tackled him to the ground.

Jack Frost had no recollection of anything afterwards. A desolate winter scene greeted the white haired child upon awakening; five feet of snow camouflaged cars, mailboxes, plant life, and all of the unfortunate woodland creatures. Icicles hung from every available surface, broken windows were boarded from the inside, and a deathly still silence filled the air. He had to get out. Get away. Run away from that terrifying laughter that echoed in his head with a sadistic glee. He refused the comfort of the winds, the safety of their intangible arms. He refused to hear that familiar voice in the back of his mind. He refused to acknowledge that he was the one who did this.

* * *

It wasn't the sequel you guys wanted, but I hope everyone found this chapter to their liking. I had a hard time figuring out how to portray Jack's other self. I really liked writing Hiccup, Merida, and Rapunzel though. If ya'll are okay with it, I would love to write some more about them and their sibling bond with Jack and possibly throw in Seraphina/Mother Nature in as well.

On another note, all the blizzards/storms mentioned above are actual historical events (except the Blizzard of '68, pretty sure that one was made up just for the movie). I think I may have made Bunnymund a bit too cruel, but he has reasons that I might touch up on later. If I do more one shots or a series, I'm going to go into depth about the negative relationship between Bunny and Jack and explore his other relationships with the guardians, but for now, I'm just gonna stick to subtle hints here and there.  
So, review, critique, point out any errors with spelling or grammar and I will be over joyed :D


	3. The Dark Side of Jack

Thank you for the encouraging reviews everyone! I hope ya'll like this chapter, it was kind of hard O.o

I got this one out sooner than the last one though. 8D

Probably because I'm dog sitting instead of being at home, doing chores. Either way, good for you guys, right?

Anyways, I'm actually thinking of combining this arc with storyline of the first chapter to come up with a bigger/more dramatic plot line. Opinions? Yay or Nay?

Warnings: language and maybe some imagery...? I honestly don't know what standards everyone has for that sort of thing...

Happy Reading!

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Sanderson ManSnoozie: star pilot extraordinaire and close friend to Jack Frost; was worried. The Winter Child he had become so fond of was, in a word, decaying. The boy no longer exuded energy, laughter, and curiosity. No, Jack was becoming increasingly sullen and withdrawing from everything; just as his predecessors did before ultimately passing from this world. It was why winter spirits, in general, were such a rare breed and, more often that not, were seen as creatures of death and destruction. Mother Nature and the Man in the Moon had combined their powers into such a young vessel in hopes of preventing this exact predicament; but the Sandman knew, better than most, that history was always bound to repeat itself.

Until something strange happened with the young winter bringer. Jack Frost's consciousness 'disappeared'. As a giver of dreams, Sandy was will tuned to the minds of mortals and immortals alike. He'd been keeping a close watch over Jack to insure pleasant dreams (a useful trick, being able to keep track of someone despite being on the other side of the world), knowing the boy could cease existing soon. The ancient being remembered the sudden panic at sensing Jack's life force but not his mind when it first happened in 1888. He had immediately rushed to the other's location only to find a raging blizzard in play, yet Jack was still 'gone'. Sandy had waited the storm out and eventually found the child collapsed on top of a pile of snow, the wind swirling worriedly above him. The little man had sat by him until he awoke and the Sandman had never been so relieved to feel someone else's consciousness. He would have felt even better if Jack had not decided to keep his mouth shut, for once (the child had a tendency to talk...a lot. Sandy could not deny that.)

The Sandman never solved the mystery and had deemed to forget about the near heart attack...until it happened again in 1913 and another in 1940; and those were only the extended periods. Each time, Sandy would find Jack but the boy refused to talk (and Sandy had always thought being mute himself was bad.) He finally had a break through in 1968. Sandy would never forget what had transpired that day. How someone so innocent could cause such harm. How severely Jack Frost had been damaged.

Sanderson ManSnoozie found him shortly after Jack had fled to Antarctica in a panic. The Sandman had been, simply said, pissed, but he was willing to hear Jack's side of the story. Jack knew he was screwed; his staff in the golden man's possession, eyes piercing straight through him, and the fact that Sandy, a loyal friend for well over two centuries, was the one being Jack and the wind respected the most; even the wind, all four of them, agreed that yes, Jack Frost was, indeed, screwed. It was only a matter of minutes before the snowy haired boy began to tremble and opened his mouth to confess everything when a sharp tug at Jack's being silenced him. The Sandman could sense it as well, the way Jack's consciousness was being pulled apart and fading. When the bone chilling cold settled in, affecting both occupants of the treacherous tundra; Sandy knew he was about to find out what had been scaring Jack for so long and he knew it was something undeniably horrid. The shorter of the two cautiously floated closer to the other, amber eyes flickering over the youth with concern while simultaneously sending out small tendrils of dream sand to scour the plain for any threats. An exclamation point appeared over the dream weaver's head when Jack fell over onto his side unconscious. The man paused only a foot away from the child. Jack's mind had completely vanished despite having the physical body laying in front of him. A small, round face scrunched up in determination. Fists clenched, feet marching forward, and streams of golden dream sand rapidly stirring; Sanderson ManSnoozie was on a mission of great importance. He was just about to place a hand on Jack's shoulder when a bigger, pale hand grabbed the elder spirit's wrist.

Warm amber eyes against frigid violet.

A perfect smile flashed up at Sandy, but the little man would not be fooled. This was not Jack Frost. This was not the Spirit of Winter who played with children and handed out happiness at the cost of his own. This was not the child of ice and snow he'd come to love and cherish.

No, this creature was of anger and bitterness, sorrow and despair, a creature created by the agony of a suffering child; the negative energy pouring forth from this demon clashed violently with the light of the omnipotent Sandman and his dreams.

_"Sanderson."_ Deeper, darker than the charming frost child. The next moment was a flurry of movement; golden whips flying and the pale skinned boy flipping backwards. A maniacal giggle escaped from the thing's mouth. Dream sand formed shapes above Sandy's head; a miniature Jack Frost then an 'x' over it,

_"You're not Jack."_

_"First you attack me, then you have the nerve to tell me I'm not me? I'm wounded, Sanderson, truly."_ This...thing (not Jack, it could never be Jack, no matter how much it pretended) began rolling up the sleeves of Jack's tattered, old bomber jacket. Showing off deeply inflicted scars running the length of the thin arms, _"I am Jack, but I'm not Jackie. He's sleeping. Resting where this cruel reality can no longer reach him. The poor lad is so lost and confused, frightened beyond belief."_ The thing chuckled before Jack's voice spilled out of the thing's mouth,

_Why are these people hurting me?_

_Why can't anyone see me?_

_Why won't I die?_

_What did I do wrong!?_

_"It's all jumbling, really,"_ It's voice returned to its previous demented state, _"but you get the gist of it."_ The chesire smile never left its face, nor the darkness in its eyes. Fingers flexing and smile widening into a bearing of teeth, the thing's arms erupted with spikes of frozen crimson. Sandy stood his ground, panic etched into his features, an exclamation point echoing his thoughts. The creature let out a laugh, twisted with malice and glee, truly sadistic, before lithe legs launched the body at Sandy with wicked intent. An arm swung and the Sandman had to dodge a barrage of blood spikes,

_'Jack's blood...'_ Sandy thought, a shiver vibrating his sand. A whip lashed out to wrap around the wrist of this monster in Jack's skin. The dream sand immediately froze and Sandy had to use his other whip to reflect the second wave of crimson spikes while more sprouted from the pale arms to renew ammunition,

_"Give me a dream, Mr. Sandman!"_ The monster cackled, angling one of his feet to pivot on an ankle and spinning to face the eldest spirit. Just as Sandy spun to face it, the thing once again launched into a blur of movement and swerved to circle around the small man, tiny droplets of blood splattering across the ice. A flick of the wrist sent the projectiles towards Sandy, where they lodged into his upper torso; he winched but the spikes of frozen blood were soon pushed out by the golden grains of sand that made up the Sandman's suit,

_"Give Jack back his body!"_ written in neat cursive above Sandy's head to clearly convey his point,

_"No."_ the demon said simply, stepping forward casually. The blood running in rivulets down its hands froze at the fingertips, forming claws, _"As much as it will hurt Jackie, I have to eradicate you."_ The creature seemed happy to say those words, a content smile stretching across its lips, _"Everyone will hurt us. It is fact. Therefore, I am the hunter; hurt before you are hurt, kill before you are killed. These are the principles on which we have survived as Jack Frost."_ Sandy's gut seemed to fall out at that moment in time; the creature was implying someone had tried to kill Jack and in retaliation, the prey had turned into the hunter. Violet eyes narrowed while the smile stayed in place, not an inch out of line. This...hunter tilted its head to the side, _"Are you afraid, Sanderson? Horrified? Perhaps disgusted by the blood on our hands? The bodies pierced by icicles. The screams of the dying. The frostbitten terror of knowing you're staring death right in the eye?"_ a deep chuckle sounded, _"Now doesn't that sound positively fun?!"_ The chuckle turned into a full laugh. This embodiment of insanity leapt forth and Sandy closed his eyes,

_'I'm sorry, Jack'_ the Sandman thought, _'but I have to stop this thing before it gets out of hand!'_ Honey eyes snapped open and whips of sand lashed out. The creature just about to pierce him with bloodied claws gave a yelp of shock when both whips wrapped around its neck then flung the lean body into the ground repeatedly before the whips were frozen and destroyed,

_"Insolent basterd!"_ it shouted, blood trickling from its snarling mouth, a gash in its head also leaked crimson fluid while its right arm was bent at an awkward angle. When it stumbled forward it was with a limp, narrowed violet eyes dimming with blood loss, _"You would cause such damage to your dear friend?"_ another laugh darkened by madness, _"You can not stop what has been started. This world has cast its lot and wrought its own damnation! They cast us as death and misery so death and misery we will bring!"_ a cracking sound from behind made the spirit spin and freeze the multitude of sand tendrils coming from behind, _"Sneaky little fuck-"_ when the white haired body turned around to face Sandy once more, a golden fist of dream sand, roughly the same size as the winter spirit, rammed straight into it, sending the decrepit demon into a cliff face.

Sandy waited until the cloud caused by the crashing ice had subsided before darting forth. His whips still held in hand as he searched through the rubble to find the unconscious body of Jack Frost. The Sandman sighed in relief upon finding the boy still breathing...and his original personality returning. Sandy sprinkled a pinch more of dream sand over the white hair before gathering the youth onto a golden cloud and speeding away from Antarctica. The little man knew who to see and raced to his destination with haste.

* * *

Mother Nature, known as Seraphina to some, and 'Mother' to her four seasons, sat by the side of her Winter Spirit. Jack laid in a simple bed within the sanctuary of her home, bandages covering his torso and head while braces were strapped onto his arm and leg. Sandy floated outside on the balcony, his concentration tied to something in his hands that glowed with the moon light.

The tall woman, with flowing black hair and an ethereal beauty, was worried. It was well known among the seasonal spirits that Jack Frost was the favorite of Mother Nature; the boy who so fondly called her 'mother', his eyes brightening whenever he saw her (although when asked, the seasonals would not deny playing favorites with Jack as well. He was the youngest, the eager pup trying to prove himself to his older siblings.) Like any good mother, Seraphina had panicked and demanded to know what had happened while simultaneously grabbing Jack and summoning her medical sprites. She had picked up on Jack's odd behavior during the last few decades; her three oldest seasons often mentioning it in reports and talking about it directly to her. She would have never guessed the situation would spiral out of hand so quickly. The woman was grateful it had been Sanderson who had found...this other Jack. Her spiritual son would be in a far graver state of affairs had it been another spirit, one not so closely connected with Jack, or possibly one of the spirits who loathed the frost child. Still, the problem had been found and with it, the possibility of a solution. Maybe if she had paid more attention, the boy wouldn't be lying injured before her, or maybe she should have tried to involve herself more with the younger's life. perhaps-

"Mother...?" a light voice asked, followed by a groan. It successfully pulled Mother Nature out of her depressing 'What If' thoughts,

"Jack, how do you feel?" her gentle voice helped to calm the winter child, as well as the tan hand running through white locks of hair,

"My head hurts..." groggy blue eyes blinked, "I...I was in Antarctica..."

"It's okay, Jack, I know. Sanderson told me everything." Seraphina lifted a cloth from a bowl on the nightstand, placing it on his forehead, "You're running a high fever. You'll be on break and staying with me until you heal."

"S-Sandy!" sudden alertness caused Jack to bolt up an inch off his pillow before Mother Nature stopped him with her hand, still placed on his head,

"He's fine, Jack. Completely unharmed." a soft smile appeared in Jack's vision and he relaxed once more. Hearing the conversation, the Sandman decided to make his entrance, a proud grin across his face and necklace in hand. He went to Jack's side and fluidly tied the string around Jack's neck. In response, the child let out an agonized, two-tone scream and clutched his chest. His insides began to burn, claws raking down the inside of his torso. It was fighting, whatever this thing was, it wasn't going down without a fight. He could feel Mother running a soothing hand through his hair, her voice telling him to breathe. Jack took in a gulp of air and the pressure was released bit by bit. Then, like a tornado fading away, the pain subsided and Jack could no longer feel the darkness in his mind, the shadow fingers skittering at the edge of his vision. Not even the scent of innocent blood splattered across a dead man and his axe.

The Winter Spirit fell limp onto the mattress below him, his Mother's hand still running through his hair and another reaching for the cloth she had thrown into the chilled bowl of water in haste. Brilliant sapphire eyes blinked open, a clarity in them that hadn't been seen since long ago,

"Sandy...?" The little man formed a picture of a thumbs up over his head. It morphed into a crescent shape when Jack reached up to touch the piece of jewelry around his neck. He lifted it slightly to stare at it. It was a small sphere contained within delicate, but firm metal work. The patterns twisted and flowed together to form an intricate pattern of dazzling silver. The sphere, itself, was clear, except for the miniature white light floating inside. It seemed to hum with life and blinked once, twice, three times before settling into a dim state,

"Sanderson, Lunar, and I have come up with a solution. This necklace contains a moon beam, Jack. It is a direct light source, able to keep the darkest of nights at bay. Keep this with you and you need not worry about changing again." Seraphina explained, putting a graceful hand on Jack's to close his pale fingers around the necklace,

"Wait...so this will keep everyone safe...?" He asked in shock and Sandy nodded vigorously. A tiny Jack Frost, staff in hand, flew about the room with a grand display of air acrobatics, a smile, seemingly to big for it, adorning its face. Jack watched the figure with excitement. His entire being seemed lighter in comparison to the last century. A full smile coming easily and a laugh even more so. The feeling spread and Seraphina leaned down to hug her son,

"It will keep **you** safe, Jack."

* * *

Two months later, Sandy was contently spreading his dream sand. The boisterous laughter of a winter spirit filling the background. The wind seemed to laugh along with the boy and mildly disrupted the streams of gold flowing to the children beneath, but Sandy couldn't find it in himself to care much. Not when the care free youth soared past him with a bright, true smile. Jack Frost was happy and the Sandman was positive that this time, history would change.

And perhaps Jack Frost was not so broken.

* * *

Notes:

I got really stuck on the fight between Jack and Sandy, I just couldn't seem to get it out...until I started having a conversation with the dogs. They were surprisingly helpful :) Quick note; the other Jack (I need to come up with a name for this guy) didn't try to grab the staff because he can't use it, it'll only respond to the 'original' Jack. I tried to make the other Jack a bit...insane, he is the embodiment of 300 years of mental suffering, after all.

On another note, for randomness. Jack is kind of based off me towards the end. I had been in a psychiatric hospital when I fell sick. They always checked our vitals each morning. When they asked how I felt, I said "My head hurts..." while the walls were waving at me. Few seconds later, my temperature came up as 103 degrees Fahrenheit. Being that sick away from home is hell.

I also like the fact the Mother Nature acts like a mother x3 Jack doesn't remember anything, while his 'siblings' (Hiccup, Merida, and Rapunzel) remember everything from their past life. I figured Jack would know what a mother is, but since he can't remember having one, he latched onto the closest thing he had. I'd imagine Seraphina would be a bit shocked but ultimately thrilled that Jack thinks of her as such (she **is** Mother Nature though, she's bound to be busy...a lot.) I'd love to do a story about them as a family 3

Please keep in mind that for this story, I imagine Jack as fourteen (I like to imagine his hoodie is a bit too big for him, he'd look so cute xD ) while Hiccup, Merida, and Rapunzel are in the 17-21 area (They're not the ones who died, after all.)

Please review and point out any mistakes so I can fix them! I know one of you suggested more spacing so I tried to incorporate that and went back and spaced out the second chapter as well :)


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